


Of Second Chances And Parallel Universes

by Nata1967



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Gen, How Do I Tag, Might Be M/M in the future idk, Parallel Universes, This Is A Cliche, Time Travel, i don't care
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-15 00:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11219415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nata1967/pseuds/Nata1967
Summary: When Tsuna dies at age eighty-six, he desperately wants more time. Byakuran can grant him that, but will it really be the same when none of his Guardians seem to remember him as he is? In fact, nobody seems to remember his true self at all! How long can he keep the Dame act up? How long does he have to wait until these Guardians are truly the ones he remembers again?





	1. The Unexpected Shift

The room was peaceful, and the sound of birds chirping filtered in through the open window, along with the relaxing smell of lavender flowers wafting in from the bushes below the window. The occupant of the double bed inside sighed, and the coughed.

A certain aged Storm Guardian lurched quickly to Neo Vongola Primo's side, feeling his knees pop and strain from the sudden movement. The Guardians bodies weren't what they were once, even Hibari felt an occasional ache in his lower back from time to time, even though he was too proud to admit it. Tsuna coughed again, snapping Gokudera back to attention. He hurriedly took the Sky's slightly wrinkled hand in his own, clutching as hard as he dared. They had all known Tsuna was slipping, ever so slowly, ever so slightly.

He had been getting worse over the past few months, finally being confined to his bed about three weeks ago. The most infuriating thing about it was that Tsuna didn’t seem to care at all. He lay on his bed, a smile on his face most of the time, excepting the days when there was too much pain to pretend otherwise. When he was asked why he seemed to be so at peace with his rapidly approaching death, he had responded simply: “I am content.” And he really was. He had friends, a spouse and children whom he loved very much, a family.

He had accomplished his goals, and he had enough money left to ensure that his family lived on for at least four generations, not that they were incapable of making a respectable amount of money themselves. He had raise his children well, teaching them by his principles, and leaving Reborn to train them, because Reborn’s training was probably what had changed him the most, had helped him form the strongest bonds, and he knew his children would benefit from it as well.

They had, and had branched out to form various Famiglia, which had of course been allied with the Vongola, forming a coalition of sorts, which guaranteed their lasting safety. All in all, Tsuna had accomplished much in his life, and he was ready to move on. Above all, he just wanted to rest. He was so tired. Not a ‘Rest in bed and take a nap’ tired, but a tiredness that seeped in to his skin, that he could feel in his bones, silently telling him ‘Enough’. He was more inclined to listen with every passing day, slowly inching towards the point of no return. Here he was, teetering on the edge, almost, _almost_.

He faintly felt a hand clasping his, muffled somehow, as if through a heavy fog. He opened his eyes with more effort than it usually took, and looked at Gokudera’s face hovering over him, responding to his question with: “Don’t worry, I’m perfectly fine”, As he had done for every other time Gokudera asked the question during the past few months. Gokudera pursed his lips in disbelief, as he always did when Tsuna answered this way, but this time his eyes narrowed too, and he called the other guardians over- at least, those that were left.

Chrome had passed away three years ago, when Mukuro had become too weak to maintain her illusionary organs, and Mukuro had never been the same since, hardly talking and preferring a reclusive life shut up in his house than the rigors of the outside world. He would attend this last meeting though. He loved Tsuna too much not to be present at his death-bed, shared too many memories with the elderly Mafia Don to not pay him this final respect. There he was, materializing out of thin air as he was prone to do.

Slowly, the rest of the guardians trickled in; Yamamoto, with his cane nobody truly believed he needed; Ryohei, his enthusiasm and love of life undiminished; Lambo, closer to tears than he had been in the last few decades; Hibari, leaning back casually against the wall, but more tension present than there was normally, his brows drawn lower over his eyes; and the ever-felt absence of Chrome, an unoccupied chair at the dinner table, an empty spot at Tsuna’s bedside, an almost tangible presence waiting for him on the other side, waiting. He could almost see her already, and so he bid a last goodbye to his guardians, his friends, his family, wishing them all happiness, safety, and fulfillment, for what more could anyone wish for?

Lambo surprised him by flinging himself onto the four-poster bed, for one last hug, Yamamoto, Gokudera and Ryohei following soon after. Hibari offered him a heartfelt handshake, and a hint of wetness in his eyes. Mukuro made do with a salute, and a smirk saturated in sadness. They all stayed with him till the very end, until he almost felt the grip of death slowly pulling him under and he sent them all one last tired smile, feeling as if he was sinking into the bed.

He realized then. Like a spark exploding outward from his body, he understood; he wasn’t ready to go at all. He wanted so much more. He wanted to spend endless days in the sun with his family, laughing and chatting until the sun set, and to do it again the following morning. He wanted to spend the rest of eternity with his family, always together, never drifting apart. He wasn’t ready to pass on at all, he was resolved to linger on. A spark of Dying Will lit upon his forehead, perking up all the Guardians with one last wild hope. Another spark, larger, stronger this time, burning with more intensity. It turned into a full-fledged Flame, his eyes a vivid orange, alive with Dying Will, burning and pleading for just one more second, just one more day, just one more lifetime to spend with his loved ones.

The Flame dwindled, faded, died. Tsuna’s eyes were still open in one last plea. Thus, Neo Vongola Primo passed away peacefully in his bed at the age of eighty-six.


	2. Old Enemies, New Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsuna meets Byakuran and comes to a decision.

Tsuna was still fighting as he was carried away on white mist, trying desperately to get back to just pass through the fading window behind him, if only to reassure them that he was fine, to soothe the heartbroken faces.  
His back didn’t ache anymore when he twisted, and his hands no longer bore that slight shake. He glanced briefly down at his hands, gaze sliding off, but promptly snapping back to the appendages with considerable alarm. There were… no wrinkles. At all. He turned them over, inspecting the smooth palms, then slowly brought them back to his face, only to find the skin soft and gentle, none of the weathered hardness it had acquired beforehand.  
He looked at his hands again, and noticed they lacked the tan that had become the norm under the hot Italian sun. Could he be? Apparently so. He really was in his young body. Middle School age, to be exact. The lack of the healthy slightly darkened skin must be an indicator of Middle School, for he had gained a permanent tan when he had moved to Italy during High School, and he refused to even entertain the thought of him being younger than fourteen.  
Although his newly rejuvenated muscles strained, it seemed to have no effect on the white mist steadily bearing him towards places unknown. At length, he stopped fighting to get back. His guardians had been out of sight for a while now, and his efforts seemed futile anyway. He shouldn’t waste the energy, he might need it later.  
When the white mist finally stopped, it put him gently atop a hard white expanse, which reflected everything perfectly, which is why it was so bright. He waited for a little while, until something began to change in front of him, a black mass was slowly fading out of obscurity, swirling around itself furiously, twisting and thrashing.  
It slowly became lighter in color, until it was almost the shade of the expanse it was hovering above. The shape gradually coalesced into a vaguely humanoid form, and slowly the form became clearer and clearer, until it was clearly a man standing in front of him.  
Clothes began to appear, a white jumper with straps circling the man’s thighs and both his biceps. The hands began to take on a skin tone, the white fading away into a rosy pink. Hair began to take shape on his head. It was less fluffy than Tsuna’s, but still definitely qualified as gravity defying. A familiar face began to form, a narrow smirk, purple eyes, a three-pronged mark on his cheekbone. It was unmistakably Byakuran.  
Why was Tsuna not surprised? Byakuran started walking in his direction and Tsuna squared his shoulders. It always came in handy to look like he was on top of things when it came to Byakuran, no matter how close they became in the years following Byakuran’s defeat at Tsuna’s hands. Byakuran came to a stop in front of him, a bit too close for comfort, but that was a regular occurrence. He looked the same as when Tsuna had first met him. Byakuran placed his hands on his hips, and heaved an obviously fake sigh.  
“Why must I be involved in your every shenanigan?” This was grossly untrue, as Tsuna’s guardians managed to involve him in a hell of a lot more shenanigans than Byakuran had ever managed to connect him to.  
“I swear, someday I’m going to get tired of this and leave you to deal with all your problems on your own.” Byakuran smirked at this, for they both knew this was a lie, and that Byakuran loved every last bit of trouble that came his way. He thrived on it.  
“Now now Byakuran, what did we say about lying to people”  
“That people cannot be trusted and sometimes lying is necessary?” Tsuna might have argued with that in his middle school days, but experience taught him that Byakuran was right, some lies couldn’t be avoided. He pressed his palm against his forehead in frustration and acknowledged Byakuran’s argument.  
“Sadly, you may be right. So, tell me. Why am I here. Where is here?” Byakuran’s smile widened in genuine delight.  
“At last, you’re asking the right questions.”  
“And as usual, you’re not answering them.” Tsuna shot back half playfully.  
“Do you really have time for this? I’d have imagined you’d want to start the next phase as soon as possible” These cryptic ‘I know something you don’t’ responses were so typical with Byakuran that Tsuna didn’t even dignify it with a response, and only raised his eyebrows at Byakuran, prompting an explanation.  
“All right, all right. I’m sure you’re dying to know. This is Heaven’s liminal space, or in other words, a place of transition. It’s where the most righteous of people go to be reincarnated.” Something seemed a bit off to Tsuna.  
“Then why are you here? I’m not saying you’re not a good person but… you’re probably not a good person.” Byakuran affected a gasp, hand clutching his heart like a person deeply wounded.  
“How unrighteous of you, Tsunayoshi!” Tsuna snickered at that, and decided to address the other issue weighing on his mind.  
“Reincarnation?” He queried, and Byakuran sobered up as quick as he had started fooling around.  
“Yes. You wanted a second chance so desperately back there and you’ve been so disgustingly good your whole life that God has decided to grant you a second chance, or something.” Tsuna’s eyes widened, and his breath hitched a bit.  
“A second chance?” He asked breathlessly.  
“Ugh. That was so disgustingly hopeful and naïve. Yes yes, you lucky bastard, a second chance.” Byakuran seemed like he had decided to stop speaking, and Tsuna drew a breath.  
“Let me speak. God, children these days, so disrespectful,” Tsuna was eighty-nine years old when he had passed away, but Byakuran seemed to have regained his good mood, and so Tsuna decided not to comment.

“You’ve been ‘chosen’, so to speak, to get another shot at life. But, as sending you back in time is impossible- “Byakuran held up his hands up in placating gesture, “- Don’t even ask, when I did there was all this confusing shit about dimensions and paradoxes and screwing with them. Also, strangely, butterflies? Anyways, you’re being sent to a very similar parallel universe to relive the glory days.”  
Tsuna almost didn’t dare hope. It was almost too good to be true.  
“Yes! Please send me there.” Byakuran chuckled, which in hindsight was the first sign that not all was right, and responded only:  
“As you wish.” Almost instantaneously the white plain they were on began to blur and dissolve. Tsuna felt as if he were falling, and a strange tightness in his chest. His eyes began to close of their own accord, and he felt his legs begin to collapse under him, as if he were only falling asleep.  
Before he had the chance to sink completely out of consciousness, he heard Byakuran mention, almost off-handedly:  
“Poor guy, doesn’t even know he’ll have to start all over.”  
Wait, what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Sorry for the long wait, I'm currently suffering from a big writing block... hopefully I can get the next chapter to you in less time. Hope you enjoyed, and stay tuned!


	3. Of Awakening and Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsuna wakes up to find his old life waiting for him to seize it, but is he really ready?

He was falling, legs and arms flailing and struggling to right himself, but he didn't know which way was up or down. He fell and fell, sinking feeling in his chest, he was so close to hitting the ground, he would crash any second-  
He woke up.  
  
He shot up from his lumpy mattress with surprising speed, gasping. He curled into himself, and laid his head on the palms of his hands, eyes squeezed shut, trying hard to calm his breathing.  
  
Wait. His mattress back home wasn't lumpy at all.  
  
All senses on high alert in case of a trap, he took in his surroundings. Green floor-length curtains were pushed aside near the window, letting soft moonlight bathe the beige walls and parquet floors through the window. A desk stood near the window, covered in discarded papers, some of them spilling down onto the floor. Given his middle school track records, he was willing to bet they were all some sort of failed tests.  
  
He took a deep breath. So Byakuran had actually done it. He was back in the past. He had another life to spend with the people that mattered most to him and he was not about to waste it on being a failure for the next two years of his life. Thanks to perpetual (and completely unnecessary) tests of knowledge administered by "The World's Greatest Hitman" who had, in later years, surrendered the mantle to another one of his pupils (Neither Dino nor Tsuna had seemed very enthusiastic to receive it, it came with too much extra training for either of their respective tastes). The Reborn he knew was quite content living out the rest of his adult life in Sicily.  
  
Sometimes, Tsuna wondered of being forced into a child's body against his wishes, cursed without his knowledge, and almost killed more than a dozen times had been slightly off-putting to Reborn in the end. He then infallibly reflected on what kind of horrible (but impressive) personality Reborn must have to return to the Mafia after all that.  
  
Secretly, he thought Reborn was just tired. Not the kind of tiredness you have after a good day of hard work, but an ache in your chest, when you're bone-weary and have lost your inspiration, your will, your hope for a better day to come along, for the dark cloud to pass.  
  
He guesses it doesn't really matter after all, if he's in the past. Of course he'll do everything in his power to help Reborn, including butnot limited to ending the curse. He would be the best damn pupil Rebirn had ever had the pleasure to teach. Maybe, by the end, Reborn would consider him family.  
  
He checked the red numbers blinking on his alarm clock, and was quietly impressed when he saw the numbers read 6:00. He had managed to wake up at his regular time even after being flung decades into the past. Was his body instinctively waking up at that time?  
  
That question brought him to whole load of conundrums. What was his physical fitness level? He was in really good shape during all of his adult life, but his body was in middle school. He was in pitiful shape during middle school. Truly desperate. His P.E teacher had once told him he would never amount to anything, and had been fully willing to give him permission to join the girls in their lessons. The teacher had seemed worried about him.  
  
He pulled his sheets off, and rolled out of bed. He tried a single push-up on the floor. His arms collapsed under him on the third repetition. He groaned. This was going to be harder than he thought. He'd have to dedicate all his free time to getting into shape, because lord knows he wouldn't survive the mafia the way he was now, it was a miracle he managed to then.  
  
He padded down quietly to the kitchen in search of nourishment. There was no way he was going to let his mother do all the work this time around. She had suffered enough from his father not being home, and only coming to visit once every couple of years. Once he became Neo Vongola Primo, CEDEF's leader would be the first to go.  
  
Back in his original timeline, he had given Iemitsu two options. Retire early, or be fired. Iemitsu had chosen to retire and spend his days in Namimori with his wife happily. Nana had been overjoyed to see Iemitsu back home to stay, but had not let him in the house before a copious amount of groveling had taken place. Tsunayoshi couldn’t say it didn't give him the tiniest bit of perverse satisfaction.  
  
Okay, fine. Quite a bit of perverse satisfaction was felt until he could truly forgive his father, but it was worth it in the end. Both of his parents were very happy with the outcome, and he himself took care to visit at least twice a year.  
  
As he rummaged in the overhead cabinets in search of some cereal (if anybody thought he'd remember where they put the cereal in his old house, they would be terribly wrong.)  
  
Suddenly, a voice he hadn't heard in decades rang out.  
  
"What are you looking for, Tsu-kun?" He whirled around, and was faced with the baffled visage of his mother. All the muscles in his body seemed to clench. His chest contracted painfully around his heart. He hadn't anticipated how much it would hurt. He had thought he was ready, but seeing his mother left him with an ache that felt like it could never pass.  
  
The last time he had seen her she was lying unmoving on a hospital bed, too weak to lift her head to greet him. He had held her hand all the way, watched the life bleed out of her eyes with an increasingly tight grip surrounded by the smell of morphine. When the nurses had finally pried his hand away after a few hours, he had run to the hospital toilets and spent the rest of the night throwing up violently in one of the stalls.  
  
When he was tired out, and his heaving was only producing bile, he dragged himself home, slept a day and a half, and remained entirely stoic during the funeral.  
  
In fact, he was about two minutes from crying right about now, and there was no way his (now alive once more) mother would understand why. He promptly turned, and ran out of the door.  
  
He needed to be alone, preferably for the next ten years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I didn't even mean to put Tsuna through so much this time! It seems like the angst is just writing itself... I'm sorry, but this is definitely not the last time I'll be abusing our dear main character...  
> Hope you enjoyed despite Tsuna's anguish...  
> Stay tuned~


	4. Of Bittersweet Memories

At this point in his life, and he meant both physically and mentally, he knew he was cowardly. The difference was, he understood himself a bit more this time around. Don’t get him wrong, he knew he could be brave if he tried, but he wouldn't try if it weren't for his family. In other words, he had no reason to be brave if it weren't for his family.

If any of the people he considered his were to be in any kind of peril, he would go to the ends of the earth to make it better, and he already had in some ways, giving all of himself for the sake of many members of the family in the past... the future? He supposed it didn't really matter.

The point was, he had run, away, like he knew he would, because there was no reason to be brave. At this point, he felt more stressed than he'd ever been in his life, and he couldn't even imagine being able to face his mother, much less be composed and cool around her.

Maybe it was only the effect of the hormones racing through his newly teenage body, but his chest felt tight, his throat felt choked, and he knew he was going to cry in the next five minutes. He should really find a place to hide before that happens.

Legs pumping, heart racing, he let his mind wander and his limbs take them wherever they willed. After a time, he found himself in a nook next to an abandoned bowling alley. He frequented the nook quite often in his early childhood. While his classmates had never used physical force against him, they had come pretty close a couple of times, and many afternoons were spent huddling in the nook, shaking, and returning home to his mother's knowing stare.

It was a painfully familiar sight now, when he needed it most. It was a bit small for him now, pressing uncomfortably against his thighs and his ribcage, but he hunkered down a bit more despite the slight discomfort.

He let out a shuddering breath. He already felt calmer. He let out another. He wasn’t ready for any of this. His arms snaked around his knees, and squeezed tightly. Thoughts were racing through his head at the speed of lightning, whirling around crazily.

Most of all, he was painfully aware of his own inadequacy, consumed by the familiar feeling of being almost good enough. Tears started welling up in his eyes, and he squeezed them shut. They forced their way out despite his best attempts to prevent them, and his eyes burned as the stray drops of moisture demanded to be released.

He surrendered to his body’s wishes, and spent the next fifteen minutes quietly sniffling and crying his eyes out. Only when he felt tired out and pleasantly numb, he finally emerged from his hiding place, and started to trudge back home, feeling a bit better than before.

Only when he got back home again did he realize that there was no way he was facing his mother again, not like this. He turned away from the front driveway, and promptly scaled the fence. At least he tried to. A feat he would be easily able to accomplish in the future now had him completely stumped. His limbs just weren't long enough to reach the top of the fence. Once he got his growth spurt at the end of middle school it would probably be better, but for now he contented himself with wiggling the loose board in the fence and squeezing through.

He started up the tree very slowly and carefully. Luckily the slats his father had hammered in the last time he was here were still mostly intact. His father had come home one day, and overzealously announced he was going to build Tsuna a tree-house. He had barely finished hammering the steps up in the tree before he had disappeared once more. As much as Tsuna was still pissed off at the man, he was thankful for the work he had managed to put in, it was aiding him now.

He finished scaling the tree, and slowly climbed onto the windowsill. He retrieved his schoolbag, careful not to make any sound that would alert his mother to his presence. After packing his schoolbag according to the neat schedule pasted haphazardly to the inside of his door, he slunk slowly back out.

A peek at his wristwatch told him he had to hurry up if he ever wanted to escape Hibari, who was vicious towards any error in punctuality. Tsuna definitely didn't want to face off against him when he didn’t know how much his fragile body was capable of. If its physical prowess was as pitiful as he remembered it to be, he wanted no part in any sort of fight, much less one against Hibari.

Before he knew it, he was at Namimori Middle, passing hurriedly through the gates, looking down fearfully. He noticed everybody doing the same. No one wanted to make eye contact with Hibari. He smiled slightly. Some things never change, do they.

Now, which class did he have first... English? He remembered how he horrible he used to be at the class, and almost cringed at his past self. He'd have to pretend to be as bad as he was before. The last thing he wanted was to look suspicious. His improvement would have to be gradual. Actually, knowing himself in middle school, his progress would have to be very slow... Well, all that was left to do is see how that plan holds up. Considering his history with plans going well, he'd give this one about two days.

It was time to change his demeanor and posture to fit the caricature of himself he was portraying. He stooped his shoulders, and slouched just a bit. His head was angled downwards and he slowed the ppace of his steps, making himself look the slightest bit hesitant.

He came to stand in front of his English classroom, daring himself to suck it up and open the door. 

This was it. The start of the charade. The moment of truth. He took a steadying breath.

Class was about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Look at me, posting chapters so soon! Less angst in this one, I think...  
> Hope you enjoyed!  
> Stay tuned~

**Author's Note:**

> God, I thought I could write this without too much angst, but it turns out it was impossible. Accept my sincere apologies, and hopefully you enjoyed this first chapter.  
> Stay tuned!


End file.
